Come to Me Quietly(88)

I retreated into my room, calling, “Good night,” behind me.

It was an invitation. Please come.

I changed from my jeans and T-shirt into pajama pants and a tank, twisted my hair up into a messy tie. Sitting back on my bed, I leaned over and pulled my sketch pad from the floor and onto my lap. I turned to the last page I’d been working on, let my mind drift as I freed my hand.

Thunder rumbled overhead, shook the walls as the wind barreled and whistled through the trees.

The pencil rushed over the page, shading the perfect planes of his face, darkening his eyes because in them there was so much pain. Every time I thought maybe we were ebbing the pain away, it was only exposed how much deeper it went.

Outside my room, I listened to water running in the bathroom. I pictured him hunched over the sink as he tried to wash the night from his consciousness. Blood dripping from his knuckles, swirling through the water, tinting it pink before it vanished down the drain. But I knew even though he was erasing the physical traces of the fight, Jared would hang on to this as another scar.

I kept stealing glances at my door, willing him to come.

To come to me.

To love me the way he had done last night.

Or maybe just lie with me, hold on to me while I held on to him.

Two hours passed, and still he didn’t come.

I wanted to go to him. Comfort him. Finally, when I could take it no longer, I did. I rose from my bed and padded across my floor. As quietly as I could, I pulled open my door. I looked out into the empty hall. Blackness seeped from under the crack in the bathroom door. I stepped out. To my right, Christopher’s door was closed. Silence hovered thick in the apartment, and I tiptoed out into the main room. The couch was empty, without evidence of blankets or pillows. My pulse raced in fear, before I noticed Jared’s keys left in a pile on the coffee table. I shuffled around the couch and pressed my face to the sliding glass door.

The night sky was turbulent. Sheets of lightning sliced through the heavens, igniting the world in bright bursts of light before it fizzled out. Furies of harsh wind pummeled the thin branches of paloverde trees, slanting them askew. Frantic, I searched the darkened balcony for evidence of the one who’d always set me off-kilter, the one who’d set the standard of my beliefs because he’d been the one who’d managed to touch me so deeply. The sky flashed. It cast the balcony in transient light.

Jared wasn’t there.

I took two steps back. I fisted my hands in frustration, my attention darting all over the empty room. For a second, I studied the front door, before I swallowed down the lump in my throat and found the courage to cross the room. Quietly I opened it.

Relief washed over me when I found him sitting by himself on the floor with his back propped up against the wall beside the door. That relief clashed with the pain, this overwhelming surge of feeling that crested and rose.

Like a partner to the storm, Jared rocked in agitation as he brought a nearly spent cigarette to his mouth. His bare chest expanded as he filled his lungs. Smoke swirled above his head. Thick chunks of his blond hair lashed with the wind, beaten and stirred. Aggressively he stamped out the butt. A twisted snarl bled from his lips, and he curled his lacerated knuckles and mashed them against his temples, as if he’d do anything to silence the demons whispering in his ear.

Just for tonight, I wanted to make it go away.

I felt the moment he registered my presence, the way his hands pressed harder to his head, his movements harsh as he severely shook it. His voice was hoarse, barely audible above the howling wind. “Just… go back inside.”



He knew me better than that. He knew there was no chance I’d turn away, just like I knew him well enough to know he would try to shut me out.